


What About Daddy Cool?

by PastelWonder



Series: Return To Me [10]
Category: Blitz (2011), Spy (2015)
Genre: A smidge o' smut, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Issues, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:51:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelWonder/pseuds/PastelWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Brant insists his son Brendan is a, "Chip off the old block."</p><p>But when the apple falls too close to the tree, Susan Cooper starts to wonder if Papa should preach... some self-restraint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Susan set the casserole on a trivet and hit the _Timer Off_ button on the oven. Tucking the warm pot holders under her arm, she opened the back door.

“Pst pst pst! Samson! Come here, Sammy-boy!” she sang out into the yard.

Samson, the family’s mostly black German shepherd, came padding around the side of the house, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he grinned at her.

“Come on, Sammy,” she smiled, careful not to bend over too far as she pat-patted her thighs. Her velcro rollers wobbled precariously in her hair. “Come inside, big boy.”

She heard a gruff, “Mornin’” behind her as Samson hopped the threshold, toenails of his enormous paws clicking against the kitchen tile.

Pushing her rollers back off her forehead, she turned and greeted her eighteen-year-old son with a slightly breathless, “Good morning starshine, the Earth says hello.”

He grunted amicably in acknowledgement, blinking bleary-eyed as he took a plate down from the cabinet above the counter.

“Take a napkin!” she reminded him brightly as he plopped a huge portion of sausage-and-egg casserole on his plate. Looming over her, he tucked his juice glass into the crook of his elbow and reached around her for the napkin holder.

He was a few inches taller than Tom, and only slightly narrower in the shoulders, with a barrel chest and large muscular arms and legs. He had a thick crop of mahogany hair that ended in a sharp widow’s peak at the top of his forehead, and warm, kind brown eyes.

He dropped a quick kiss in Susan’s hair before he sat down. “Thanks, mum.”

“You’re so welcome, baby.” She flashed him a wide, dimpled smile as the pounding of feet drew nearer. Her two youngest sons came bursting out of the hallway into the kitchen, a raucous tumble of boyish energy.

Magnus, her eleven-year-old, was all gangly limbs and awkward angles. He clopped up to the counter, reaching haphazardly for a juice glass with a large hand he hadn’t quite grown into.

Susan caught the orange juice pitcher he nearly elbowed off the counter with a soft, “Whew.”

“Sorry,” he grinned at her sheepishly. The smile slipped off his face as he spotted the casserole. “Mu-um!”

“What, sweetness?” she asked, holding up a hand, _Let me,_ as he made a clumsy grab at the dishes in the cabinet.

“Can’t we ‘ave pancakes?” he whined, voice cracking sharply as he watched her spoon a portion of casserole onto his plate.

“Honey, look at the board,” Susan nodded to the large blackboard on the opposite wall. It was divided neatly into sections with crisp lines: _Chores, School and Sports Events, Family Meeting Topics_ … There was a section in orange chalk labeled, _Weekly Meals,_ under which she’d written the major meals of the week in a looping script. “Today is Tuesday - breakfast casserole. When are we having pancakes?”

“Sa’urday,” he sighed, taking his plate from her with a forlorn look.

“Ah-ah, both hands,” she chided gently, reaching up to smooth his dark, shaggy hair off his forehead and out of his eyes when he took his plate. Already he was several inches taller than she was.

He jerked away, juice tucked against his chest sloshing warningly. “Mum!”

At the counter, Padraic, her second youngest, was already scooping a fork-full of casserole off his plate.

“Paddy, table.” Susan pointed at his seat next to his younger brother’s at the foot of the table.

She combed her fingers affectionately through his strawberry blonde curls, setting his juice at his place as he dropped into his seat with a loud _thud._  Of all her children, Padraic was the only one with her coloring. He had a sweet boyish face and round green eyes, and a faint smattering of freckles across his button nose.

“The changeling,” Tom called him, because Susan dyed her strawberry blonde hair dark to cover her grays. He had Tom’s build though, and even at fourteen, he was square-jawed and strong as an ox.

He looked up and back at her over his shoulder, grinning around his mouthful. “Fanks, mum.”

“You’re welcome, my baby.” She draped an arm around his broad shoulders as she rubbed the tip of his nose with hers.

She heard a disgusted scoff, “You’re such a mummy’s boy, Pad” from the hallway.

“Eas-y,” Liam rebuked calmly, looking up from his casserole. His elbows were propped on the table, fork hovering near his mouth.

Brendan, her second oldest, sneered at him as he crossed the kitchen. “Chht.”

“Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Susan quipped lightly, mentally steeling herself.

Brendan was the carbon-copy of Tom Brant, in looks and personality. Shorter than his brother Liam by an inch or two, with wider shoulders and a chest as broad as his father’s. He had sharp brown eyes and a shock of dark hair he’d shaved into a short mohawk, much to his school’s consternation and mother’s utter dismay. His face was fixed in a constant scowl that only seemed to soften when he looked at Susan.

The worst of it, however, was Brendan loved to fight.

With his brothers, his schoolmates, his teachers - and most especially, Tom.

“Born mean,” Tom liked to boast, slapping a hand against his own chest. “Just like ‘is old man.”

Six in the morning, and already Brendan was brimming with piss and vinegar.

 _Typical._ Susan took a breath, “Brendan, honey, please don’t start.”

He winced as she stroked her hand tenderly over the back of his head and across his shoulder, pulling him in for a side-hug.

He shrugged her off gently, muttering, “Geroff me”, and took his plate to his seat next to Liam.

Susan hadn't noticed the steaming mug until he set it next to his plate with a soft _thunk_. “Whoa, whoa - no coffee, Mister.”

Brendan’s face scrunched in irritation as his younger brothers snickered delightedly into their plates. “Why?”

“Be-cause,” Susan reached tentatively over his shoulder, taking the cup by the handle. He glared but didn’t make a move to intercept her. “It will stunt your growth.”

He snorted, arching an eyebrow at her, and he looked so much like Tom in that moment it took her breath away.

“Last thing _you_ need is caffeine,” Liam told him seriously over the rim of his glass.

“And that, too,” Susan agreed, patting Liam’s muscular shoulder.

Brendan spared his brother a glower before he dug into his breakfast.

Liam sipped at his juice, unruffled. The youngest boys chattered to each other excitedly about a computer game as they ate with their mouths open. Samson sniffed for dropped casserole as he made slow circles around the table, stopping by one of the boys with each pass for a scratch behind the ear and a quiet, “Good dog.”

Susan propped herself against the counter and worked her rollers out of her hair, dropping them into a hot pink canvas bag on the counter as she waited. She was running her fingers through her waves when she heard Tom’s heavy footsteps coming down the hallway.

Magnus and Padraic unconsciously lowered their voices as their father approached; Liam sat up a bit straighter in his chair and Brendan’s jaw clenched, shoulders tensing.

“Hey, Daddy,” she smiled as he sauntered into the kitchen, buttoning his dress shirt over a tee shirt, his tie draped untied around his neck.

There was a chorus of, “Mornin’, Dad” around the table from three of her sons. Brendan snorted softly into his plate.

“Mornin’,” Tom nodded back, stopping in front of Susan with his hands on his hips. He held still, smirking down at her as she turned up his collar and tied his tie.

“‘ave I seen you round ‘ere before?” he rumbled low at her.

Her eyes twinkled up at him mischievously as she smoothed his collar down. “I live in the area.”

He glanced around her, gruffing, “Casserole, aye?”

“It’s on the bo-ard,” she sang softly, like _Uh-uh-uh_ , ignoring his, “Bloody board.”

“Sit,” she nodded at the table.

As he pulled out his chair at the head of the table, Brendan asked, “Somethin’ wrong with your arms?”

“No.” Tom propped his elbows and stacked his hands in front of him, eyes narrowing at his second-oldest.

Brendan ignored Liam’s knee-knock under the table, looking between Susan and his father as she set a plate of casserole and a cup of coffee in front of him. “Why’s she gotta wait on you, then?”

 _Oh boy,_ Susan thought as Padraic subtly leaned back in his seat, out of the line of fire, and Magnus went, “Oo-oo.”

“Belt it, will yah?” Liam, the peacemaker, murmured at Brendan under his breath.

Susan laid her hands on Tom’s shoulders as he took a breath, feeling them tense. She squeezed gently. “Because Daddy’s the chief.”

In fact, he was. After Magnus was born, Tom took a position as Chief Inspector with Thames Valley Police. He’d been shot twice in one year, and the second time Susan stood over his hospital bed, white as a sheet with his two-month-old son in her arms, and told him it was either her or the London Met.

He’d been furious, initially, but soon found that life as a country policeman had its perks. For one, his reputation as the Bulldog of South London preceded him, and the mixture of awe and terror his officers felt when he took over as Chief Inspector had helped smooth the transition, so to speak. For another, crime in the villages amongst the upper-middles was virtually non-existent, which meant he had all the time in the world on his hands. And his hands on Susan, most of the time.

Brendan went back to his casserole with a black look as Susan slowly let out a breath. Some of the tension in Tom’s shoulders eased under her hands.

She rubbed them, bending down to press a soft kiss to his shaved head.

He laid a large hand over hers, telling her quietly, “Sit down and eat.”

She made a plate with what was left of the casserole, which wasn’t much, supplementing with an orange from the fruit basket. She took her place to Tom’s right, winking at Magnus on her left as she patted his knee.

Tom took her orange off her plate wordlessly, reaching into his back trouser pocket for his multi blade. He peeled it for her as she ate her casserole, setting it section-by-section back on her plate.

Hiding her mouth behind her hand, she told him, “Thank you” around a bit of casserole. He nodded, giving her a small upward quirk of his lips as he wiped his knife off with a napkin.

He glanced at the blackboard. “Yah gotta game this Friday?”

Liam nudged Brendan, inclining his head subtly towards Tom. Brendan stared stubbornly at his plate, jaw clenched and mouth pressed into a razor-thin line.

Tom and Susan shared a look.

Liam sighed, “Yes, sir. S’at seven.”

Tom jutted his chin at Brendan. “Wotcher?”

“I ain’t playin’,” he muttered, still glaring down at his casserole.

Susan asked, “How come?” at the same time Tom said, “Why not?”

Brendan shrugged. “Coz I ain’t.”

Susan held out a hand. “Ok son, let’s use proper English, please?”

“Alright,” Brendan sneered, levelling her a look as he enunciated slowly and clearly. “I’m not playing this Friday, Mother. ‘ow’s that?”

“You watch your tone with ‘er, boy,” Tom growled, pointing a finger at Brendan with narrowed eyes.

Brendan sat back in his chair, crossing his arms as he raised his chin in challenge. “Don’t know what you mean, _sir_.”

“You know _exactly_ what I mean,” Tom shot back in a low, dangerous tone.

“Coach says ‘e’s out this one,” Liam interjected, hand on the table between them. “‘e’s tryin’ out a new lock - some bloke who transferred.”

Brendan quickly covered his surprise, glancing at his brother as he unfolded his arms. He nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, some bloke who transferred. Says ‘e’s a good crash baller.” He shrugged casually. “Coach wants to see for ‘imself.”

 _Bullshit, S_ usan wanted to snort. She could tell when her children were lying to her, and this was a whopper.

But Tom, London’s self-proclaimed sharpest detective, seemed to buy it, sitting back in his seat in exactly the same posture as Brendan as he smirked, “Can’t crash like you, I wager.”

Brendan smirked back, and that seemed to end the row.

 _Thank goodness._ Susan glanced at the clock on the microwave.

“Holy pudding pops! We need to shake a tail feather, guys, or you’re all going to be late.”

The kitchen was filled with the sounds of chairs scraping against tile and plates and cups clattering as all four of her boys dutifully stood and carried their breakfast dishes to the sink.

“Did you want any toast?” Susan asked Tom softly, stroking her fingertips lightly down the back of his head while the boys had their backs turned.

“Would yah?” He gave her a half-smile. “Marge it for me, luv.”

She shook her head, _Bad boy_. “You know what the doctor said, Tom.”

“My grandfather ate sausage, drank whiskey, and smoked a pack a day, and he-”

“Lived to be a hundred, yeah yeah,” she sighed as she pushed herself up from the table. He caught her by the wrist, tugging her until her face was close to his.

“What time you get back?” he rumbled, eyes dropping to her mouth.

She shrugged a shoulder, playing clueless. “Oh, I don’t know. School’s out at two, I have some papers to grade, I was going to run to the store. We’re out of-” She looked up and to the corner, like she was thinking. “Everything.”

He snorted, “Papers? On what - it’s Reception. Give the list to the boy.” He jerked his head in the general direction of the commotion at the kitchen sink. “Come ‘ome straight after.”

She made a show of waffling. “Mm… I don’t know-”

“A warrant came cross my desk yesterday,” he told her in a low, serious tone. His eyes swept down the front of her blouse, lingering on her tits before they cut back up to hers. “Says I got a school teacher needs questionin’.”

Her lashes fluttered involuntarily. “O-oh? What’s she wanted for?”

His hand tightened around her wrist. “Resistin’ an officer.”

Trying to ignore the hot tickle in her low belly, she asked softly, “Who’s supposed to make the arrest?”

He smiled, all teeth and no warmth. “Sergeant Brant.”

 _Sweet mother of pearl._ “I’ll be home by two-thirty,” she breathed, letting her eyes wander over his broad chest for a moment.

He released her with a rumbled, “See that yah are.”

“H-hey, Lee? Sweetie?” She straightened, trying not to flinch at the slick feeling in her tights as she spotted her oldest by the door. He was propped against it, backpack over one shoulder and car keys in his hand, having a heated discussion with Brendan in low tones. “Liam?”

He held up a hand to shush Brendan’s furious whisper as he called back, “Wotcher?”

Susan looked between the two of them, noting the guilty set in Liam’s shoulders and Brendan’s downward scowl as she said slowly, “I want you to… take the list and… go to the store for me after practice.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatevah yah like, Mum,” he nodded.

 _No bellyaching about running an errand?_ Susan watched them both from under her lashes as she tore the grocery list off of the refrigerator and dug her wallet out of her purse.

Something was definitely up.

Liam took the list and the money with a small smile, dimples winking at her as he avoided her eyes. He bent and kissed her forehead. “Love you.”

“Love you, baby,” she said as he opened the door.

Brendan was right behind him, swooping in and kissing the corner of her mouth. “Bye.”

She touched his shoulder on his way out. “Be good.”

He shot her a smirk over his shoulder as he jogged after Liam.

Padraic took her face in both of his large hands and kissed her smack on the mouth. “La’er, Mum.”

“Tie your shoes!” she called after him, fighting a grin as she watched his sneaker laces trail in the gravel driveway behind him.

Magnus slunk in last, cringing as she took his face in her hands the way Padraic had hers and dragged him down for a loud kiss on the cheek.

“Muh-waa!”

“Ugh, geroff!” he squirmed out of her grip, wiping his cheek with his shirt sleeve as he tried not to smile.

Samson spared her a glance as he trotted casually out the front door.

“Ah-ah, Sammy,” she chided. “Doggies don’t go to school.”

He looked at the boys piling into Susan’s old Mercedes and whined.

“Come on, Samson,” she soothed, snapping her fingers and pointing back inside the house. “They’ll be back before you know it.”

He huffed, taking one last forlorn look as Liam pulled out of the driveway before he padded back inside.

Tom was standing beside the table, shrugging into his suit jacket as she shut the door. “Gotta be off, Suzy.”

She nodded, stopping in front of him and tugging his suit lapels straight. He ran his fingers through her long dark hair.

“Pret’y as the day is long.”

“Stahp.” She smiled shyly, stroking a hand down his chest and over his abs. They’d softened a touch over the years, but he was still as big and solid as the day they met.

“Can’t stop,” he murmured, reaching both arms around her waist to squeeze her generous ass as he dipped his head to kiss her.

Having four children had put a few more inches on her, despite the years of running after four rambunctious boys and a classroom full of five-year-olds. Initially, she’d been more than a little self-conscious, dressing conservatively to hide her ample figure. Tom had pitched an almighty fit (and most of her high-collared twin sets) until she conceded to wearing her long sundresses and deep v-neck sweaters again.

Today she had on a red silk blouse with buttons, and a knee-length black skirt printed with brightly-colored apples. It was her students’ favorite skirt; the class loved to count the apples together before story-time.

And Tom loved the glossy black patent heels she wore with it. A lot.

“Let me get your toast,” she told him a bit breathlessly as they pulled apart. Two-thirty couldn't come soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

“So I was thinkin’,” Liam was saying to the girl across the lunch table, “You an’ me should see a film sometime.”

He gave her his most charming smile, dimples on overdrive.

She blushed and shrugged, some of her long blonde hair brushing her tits as it slipped over her shoulder. He tried not to stare as she gave him a shy, “Kay.”

_Score._

He kept his voice casual as he asked, “Yeah? What you doin’ Friday, after the ga- Chht. Shit.”

He’d caught sight of his brother sauntering his way towards their table with a malicious smirk.

He held out his hand, _Hold it_ , as Brendan sidled up to them. “I’m in the middle a’somethin’, Bren.”

“Don’t mind me. Budge ovah,” Brendan sneered at Liam’s would-be date, smile widening at her shocked gasp as he side-bumped her chair further along the table with his.  

“Watch it!” Liam snapped, standing.

Brendan snorted up at him, reaching over the girl's arm to pick up a bit of her chicken steak. He took a bite.

“S’not bad,” he told her, dropping it back onto her plate with a _plop_ and licking his fingers.

She snatched up her book bag and stood, face scrunched in revolution as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and called him, “Pig”.

“Cathy, wait!” Liam tried to catch her by the arm.

“Don’t worry, Cath, I’ll finish it,” Brendan called after her, smirking.

Liam came forward and planted his hands on the table, snarling, “What the fuck is your problem, Bren?”

Brendan looked up at him, nonplussed. “Sit down.”

Liam propped a hand on his hip and carded his fingers through his hair, watching helplessly as the girl stomped out of the lunchroom.

“Lovely. S’just fuckin’ fantastic, innit?” He gestured at the lunchroom door as he dropped back into his chair with a _thud_. “Thank you for that, yah fuckin’ wanker.”

“You’re welcome,” Brendan said around a mouthful of chicken, dipping it with his hand into her gravy and mash.

“You are a bloody pig, you know that?” Liam came forward on his elbows, scrubbing his hands over his face as Brendan ate with gusto. “Been chattin’ ‘er up for weeks tryin’ tah get ‘er tah come out with me.”

“Takin’ ‘er for a ride?” Brendan waggled his eyebrows, hunching over her tray as he took another bite of chicken.

“Would ‘ave, if you ‘adn’t cocked it up,” Liam grumbled, crossing his arms on the table and watching his brother eat with open disgust.

“Nah,” Brendan waved his hand, _Never mind her_ , and sat back, wiping his hands on his uniform trousers. He belched loudly. “She ain’t that pret’y anyway.”

Liam noticed Brendan’s glance at the table across the lunchroom. He scanned it, spying a plump pretty redhead in a school sweater and plaid skirt.

She caught Brendan’s look, rolling her eyes and hiding her face behind her hair when he winked at her.

“She doesn’t like you.”

Brendan snorted. “Get real, mate.” He jutted his chin at her and made a kissing sound, grinning like a lunatic when she got up from the table and flounced out of the lunchroom.

In an impressive imitation of their father, he sucked his teeth. “She’s cookin’ for me, alright.”

“Ah, Jaysus.” Liam sighed. “Well? What yah want, then Bren?”

Brendan picked his teeth with his thumbnail, spitting. “Keys.”

_That’s easy._ “No.”

Brendan’s face scrunched in irritation. “What you mean, _No_? Not sittin’ round ‘ere waitin’ for you tah finish practice. Got shit tah do, don’t I?”

It was Liam’s turn to snort. “Like what?”

“None a’your fuckin’ business, s’what. Give us the keys,” Brendan held out his hand, jaw tight and lips pressed into a thin line.

“Piss off. I told Mum I’d do the shoppin’-”

“I’ll do the fuckin’ shoppin’," he mocked like, _Momma's boy_. "Gimme the list-”

“-I ain’t givin’ you the money, that’s for sure.” Liam quirked an eyebrow, _Come on_.

Brendan suddenly slammed his hand on the table. Their trays rattled as he leaned in, lowering his voice and scowling, “You sayin’ I’d steal from Mum?”

Liam tried to ignore the streak of fear in his gut and the impulse to jerk away. He forced himself to lean in instead, baring his teeth right back at Brendan as he ground out, “No. I’m sayin’ you’re a too daft tah carry around that much money.”

He felt some of the tension ease out of him as Brendan seemed to accept that, sitting back in his chair.

“Look, give us the keys an’ I’ll ‘ave the car back fore you're done. ‘ow’s that sound to yah?” He held out his hand.

Liam could recognize his best offer when he heard it. Sighing sharply through his nose, he reached behind him and worked his keys out of his pocket.

“Mind the petrol me’er,” he gruffed as he tossed Brendan the keys.

Brendan caught them with a nasty grin. “Sure.”

____________________________________________________________________________

He knew that pretty redhead liked to hang out with her mates by the tennis courts after school. Becky was her name, and she had a big arse and an even bigger attitude.

Two weeks ago, she’d given him a bollocking for trying to get a look up her skirt on the steps outside the stadium. She’d pushed him, too - given him an almighty shove that sent him sprawling into the bleachers.

God, he liked a mean girl.

He’d followed her around like a lost puppy after that, panting at her heels, and she’d let him kiss her a time-or-two, when she fancied it. Nothing indiscreet, to his chagrin; just a few pets over the sweater and an arse-squeeze under her skirt once.

She could be real sweet, too, when she had a mind to be. Calling him Brennie and telling him, “Think you’re real cute, dotcha?”

He was trying to get her knickers off before spring holiday, and he wasn’t going to manage it in his nancy school uniform.

He threw the Benz in _Park_ , picturing her laid out under him on the backseat in nothing but his letterman's jacket as he hopped out of the car. His gait slowed when he noticed Susan’s BMW in the driveway.

_What’s Mum doin’ ‘ere?_

She usually wasn’t home before four o’clock, and it was just three now.

He thought of a fib as he started up the walk, house key ready-in-hand.

There was a clinking sound, and then he saw Samson coming around the back of the house.

“Sammy?” He crouched, rubbing his hands through Samson’s mane as he clicked his tongue. “What you doin’ out, boyo?”

Samson whined low in his throat, glancing at the front door over his shoulder and back at Brendan.

“What’s the mat’er?” he called as Samson trotted to the door and paced anxiously, sniffing at the threshold and whining.

“Uhn!”

Brendan froze, cocking his head to catch the sound again. It was coming from inside.

“Uhn-uh please!”

_Mum?_

He heard a man’s vicious snarl, “Don’t ‘ave to say anythin’-”

And Susan’s moaned, “Oh God...”

She sounded like she was in pain.

His throat went dry as Samson’s whine kicked up its pitch.

“Sam, hush!” he hissed, holding his breath as he came closer to the door. Samson flinched, ears laying flat against his head.

The man’s voice growled, “- it may ‘arm your defence if you do not mention when questioned -”

“Please, I’m begging you! I don’t know anythi- Uhh-huhn! Oh God, let me go-”

Fear lashed through him like a whip, gut clenching as he shouted, “Mum!”

Adrenaline poured through him, hands shaking so hard he missed the lock and dropped his house keys on the cobblestone walk.

“Ah-uh-huh… Oh God, it’s too much, please!”

“Oh my God, Mum,” he breathed, scrambling for the keys and accidently knocking them off the walkway. They skidded, jingling, somewhere under the hedges beside the door. “Shit - fuck!”

In a panicked frenzy, he jogged back, getting a good run-up before he charged the door, roaring as he rammed it shoulder-first. He heard creaking and the sound of wood splitting as it gave at the lock strike, swinging inward so fast that he stumbled over the threshold and tripped.

He landed on his hands and knees in the foyer, clambering to his feet as he bellowed, “Mum! Mum, I’m comin’!”

He dashed through the living room, Samson hot on his heels, into the kitchen and -

“Oh Jaysus- what the fuck!” He threw up his hands to shield his face as he tried to reverse. He backed into Samson, who let out a sharp, “Arff!”, falling over the dog and onto his ass on the tile.

Susan screamed blue murder as Tom shouted, “Oi!”

She was handcuffed, hands braced behind her on the kitchen table, her pretty printed skirt hiked up around her hips and her blouse ripped open, tits out in a cream lace bra. Tom was in a dark tee shirt and his old slim-fit leather bomber jacket, dark-wash denim jeans shoved down around his knees and Susan’s ankles on either side of his bare ass. Her tights had long runs up the sides; one patent high heel was still on her foot, the other dangled on the tips of her toes.

Brendan had clapped his hands over his face and rolled onto his knees, pressing his head between them as he roared, “Oh my GOD!”

The image of his sweet, gentle mother, handcuffed and trapped under that disgusting brute, was seared into the backs of his eyelids.

His gut twisted as he fought a retch.

“Get out!” Tom thundered, and Brendan was pushing himself up onto his feet, heart pounding in his ears as he stumbled for the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. 
> 
> Suzy, you got some 'splainin' to do. Bet this wasn't on the blackboard under 'Family Meeting Topics'. 
> 
> *snickers*


	3. Chapter 3

Tom jiggled the front door by its handle. Its hinges creaked; the metal strike plate dangling from the deadbolt jingled merrily.

“Will yah look a’that, Sam,” Tom said over his shoulder to the dog as he propped his hands on his hips. “Li’le bastard broke my door.”

“Suzy, you gotta see this,” he called.

She stepped out of the hallway, wearing a pair of black leggings and a long, soft shirt with the cuffs unbuttoned and rolled up over her wrists. She was still toweling off her hair, a miserable expression on her pretty face.

It went unnoticed as Tom turned to her, jerking his thumb at the door. “S’a solid-core door with reinforced locks. He broke it down with one go.” He couldn’t keep the grin off his face, or the pride out of his voice as he growled, “New crasher my arse - kid’s a born lock. Would’a made an even bettah cen’er charge, if they played real sports ‘ere-”

“Goddamnit, Tom!” She threw her towel down with a _whoosh_.

Samson groaned, sinking lower to the floor.

“Is this funny to you?” she breathed, large green eyes round and wet as she jabbed her finger at the floor. “Is this all just some great big joke?”

“Ah for Chrissake, lighten up.” He waved his hand.

She jerked, shocked at his gall. “Lighten up!”

“Same thing ‘appened with Lee when he was a boy-”

“ _Lee_ ,” she hissed, “walked in on us in _bed_ , with the lights _off_ , when he was _sev-en_! Our sixteen-year-old son just saw us- saw us-” She clapped her hands over her face as she burst into tears.

Tom sighed, shoulders hunching, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

_Jaysus, 'ere we go..._

He crossed the living room, taking her gently by the upper arms as he murmured, “Come on, Susan.”

She made a pitiful sound as she sobbed, hands still covering her face.

His chest pinched tightly. He dragged her into him, tucking her against his chest and rubbing firm circles into her back as he soothed quietly, “Don’t do that, sweet’eart. Yah know I can’t bear it. Shh shh shh.”

Her fingers twined in his shirt as she gulped, “I am s-so humiliated…”

He closed his eyes and swallowed as the pinch in his sternum ratcheted tighter. Stroking a hand over her wet hair, he leaned back a little and tipped her chin up to look at him. “Look at me.”

She turned her head. “No-”

“Look at me,” he coaxed, taking her chin in his hand and turning her head back. Her eyes and nose were red, her freshly-scrubbed face streaked with tears.

_Oh my darlin’._

“S’none a’that boy’s business, what we do. S’no one’s business but ours.” He looked at her seriously. “I love you, Susan, and I love fuckin’ you, and I ain’t ashamed of it-”

That got him a soft huff and a dimple as she tried not to smile.

_There's my girl._

He touched his forehead to hers. “Things we do together, you an’ me, is between the two of us.” He took her hands where they were folded against his chest and pressed them palm-to-palm with his, lacing their fingers together. “S’no shame in it. You understand what I’m sayin’ to you?”

He felt a ping of relief when she squeezed his hands in hers. “Yes.”

She let out a long stuttering breath as she nodded, forehead rubbing lightly against his. “I understand.”

“Good,” he smirked as he closed his eyes and kissed her, tasting her moisturizer and the salt in her tears.

She gave him a small smile as they pulled apart.

_Beautiful._

“He’s going to want to kill you, you know that right?” she sniffled, only half-joking, as she worked their hands apart and wound her arms around his neck.

“For what? Rogerin’ ‘is dear li’le mummy?” He smiled sharply. “Let ‘im try it. Been waitin’ for that day all ‘is life.”

Susan’s nose wrinkled, “The Irish are so bizarre”, and then told him sternly, finger in his face, “Don’t you dare kill my son, Tom.”

His chest swelled. “Don’t think ‘e’d thrash ‘is old man?”

“Ha! Puh-lease.” She snorted. “He’d last two minutes with your hand tied behind your back.” She squinted. “Maybe.”

The swagger was full-force in his voice as he smirked, “Dunno. What ‘e lacks in experience ‘e might make up for in enthusiasm.”

“True,” Susan conceded, tilting her head side-to-side as she considered it. Then she gave him a sly little smile. “But he doesn’t have your grit.” She stroked her hands down his chest and back up, squeezing his broad shoulders. “Nobody brawls like you, baby. Not even Brendan.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose as his cock twitched. “S’that right?”

“It’s your best quality,” she whispered up at him playfully.

He cupped her ass, dragging her to him as he ground his hard-on into her. “What’s my second-best?”

“Ho-oh no, buddy.” She wagged her finger in his face, _Uh-uh_. “It’s almost five, and I need to get the lasagna in the oven, and you need to fix the door.”

“Chht, come on-”

“If you’re a good boy and eat all your vegetables-” His gut tightened pleasantly as she trailed her fingertip down the center of his chest. “I’ll give you some dessert.”

“I’ll ‘old yah tah that,” he promised darkly as she wriggled out of his grip and started for the kitchen.

“Counting on it,” she sassed over her shoulder as she shook her wristwatch out from under her shirt cuff. She rolled both cuffs a little higher up her forearms, preparing to make dinner.

Raising her voice so he could hear her in the entryway, she called, “What I _really_ want to know is: what was Bren doing home at two-thirty in the afternoon, when practice isn’t over until four?”

He shrugged as he inspected the hinge brackets on the door, noting which ones were bent. “Probably cheesed off ‘bout bein’ benched. Didn’t want to ‘ang ‘round and watch Liam play.”

He turned at Susan’s loud, “Hmph!”, heading into the kitchen. Samson trailed behind him.

He crossed his arms, leaning a shoulder against the doorway and jutting his chin at her. “What?”

She mocked in a deep, dumb voice, “Coach wants to try out a new lock.” She snorted derisively. “Please. Samson could come up with a better story.”

“Huh, Sammy-bear? Yes you could, smart boy,” she cooed at the dog.

Samson grinned and wagged his tail.

_What’s she on about?_

His face scrunched. “You think they were lyin’?”

“Honey.” She hefted the lasagna into the oven, pausing before she shut the door to prop a hand on her hip and level him a look. “I _know_ they were lying. Lee gets guilty-puppy face-” She made a sheepish, wide-eyed expression. “And Bren can’t look me in the eye to save his life.”

She shut the oven door with a smart _snap_ and set the timer.

“So? What’s the truth then?” he asked, angry with the boys for lying to him and annoyed at himself for buying their story. He watched Susan hunt through the shelves in the fridge, tucking lettuce and cucumbers and tomatoes into her arms as she went.

“That, my dear Hastings, is what _we_ are going to figure out.” She set the vegetables on her cutting board and tapped a finger to her temple, imitating a French accent as she told him, “Uzing our leetle gray cells.”


	4. Chapter 4

Susan was listening for the crunch of gravel in the driveway. She leaned over the sink as she heard it, moving aside the lace curtain in her kitchen window to watch as the boys pulled up in the Benz.

Her gut clenched as Brendan climbed out of the car, face set in a deep scowl.

“We can do this, we are a family and we will rally,” she hummed to herself, smoothing her hands down the front of her shirt. She fished another cucumber round out of the salad bowl and nibbled nervously.

“Re-lax,” Tom called from where he was reading the paper at the table.

“I...am...relaxed,” she defended between nibbles, one hand plucking cucumber slices out of the salad bowl while she pinched off tiny pieces of lasagna from the rim of the casserole dish with the other.

He glanced over his shoulder at the food and then at her, quirking his eyebrow.

She paused mid-munch as the front door opened.

“Mum? We’re back!” Padraic called.

It sounded like a stampede as all four of her sons filed into the house, stamping the dirt off their shoes and hanging up their book bags on the hall tree.

She waited for them at the kitchen door, smiling brightly. “Dinner’s ready!”

“Great, I’m starvin’.” Padraic was the first one in, enveloping her in a one-armed hug as he kissed her forehead.

“You miss me?” he asked her cheekily as he released her.

It was their thing; he’d asked her that everyday after school, ever since she picked him up after his first day of Reception. He’d bounded up to her car, all bright green eyes and strawberry curls, and chirped, _Did you miss me, Mummy?_

“More than anything, my sweet boy,” she told him, the answer always the same.

“‘ey, boyo,” Tom greeted him, glancing back from his paper, as he gave Tom a hearty pat-pat on the shoulder on his way to the sink.

Susan felt a streak of ache in her breast as she watched him lather his enormous hands.

_When did he get so big?_

Magnus tried to sneak past her without a hug, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head and his shoulders hunched forward.

“Hey, Maggy-Maggy.” When he didn’t answer her, she caught him gently by the hood.

“Oi!” He reached up to pull out his earbuds, huffing as she tugged him down to kiss his cheek.

She tried not to smile at how cute his frown was. “Say hello to your father and wash your hands, please. It’s time to eat.”

“Lo, Dad,” he mumbled, giving Tom’s chair a wide berth as he pulled up his sweatshirt sleeves to wash his hands.

“Mag,” Tom grunted without looking, adding, “That mop on your ‘ead gets any longer and I’m gonna start callin’ you Magnifina.” He smirked at his own joke.

Magnus shot the back of Tom’s head a mocking sneer as Padraic snickered, drying his hands on a dish towel.

“Wipe that look off your face, boy.” Tom turned, looking between the two of them over his shoulder. “Unless you want me tah do it for yah.”

Magnus jerked, wide-eyed. “No, sir!”

Tom nodded to the sink, “Wash your ‘ands,” and turned back to his paper.

Padraic nudged Magnus, sneaking a sidelong glance at his father and whispering, “‘ow’s ‘e know?”

Tom winked at Susan over the top of his newspaper as Magnus whined, “I don’t _want_ a ‘aircut, Mum-”

“Maggy, honey, it’s getting too long,” Susan tried in her best _be-reasonable-dear_ tone. “I can’t see your handsome face-”

“Who’s handsome?” Liam asked, smiling down at her as he filled the kitchen doorway with his bulk.

“You are, angelfish.” She held on lightly to his shoulders for balance as she stretched up and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Not as ‘andsome as you, Mum.”

“Oh stahp,” she smiled, knocking his bicep with the back of her hand. “You’re such a smooth-talker.”

“Get’s the girls, don’t it?” Tom asked with a sly grin, reaching back to pat Liam's arm as he clapped his hands on Tom’s shoulders.

Liam flashed her one of Tom’s patented smirks as he told his father, “I do alright.”

Susan _hmph_ ed softly.

It seemed like Liam took a different girl out every week; she’d seen him go out with three different girls in one weekend. _It’s different with our generation, Mum_ , he’d told her when she’d sputtered, wide-eyed, as he headed out the door.

She thought his high school would have run out of pretty blonde airheads by now, but alas…

“Just remember, Lee: nice guys finish first.”

“Oh yeah?” he teased good-naturedly as he lathered his hands with soap. “Where’s your nice guy?”

“Someone shot ‘im,” Tom answered conversationally without looking up from his paper.

“He’s not kidding,” Susan told the boys as they started to snigger. She frowned at Tom.

He shrugged innocently. “What?”

“You know what,” she chided before she turned to greet her last son.

Brendan was glowering at his father’s profile as he stalked into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.

She hesitated, feeling her stomach roll as she greeted softly, “Hey, Bren.”

The memory of his horrified expression and baleful shout as he fell backwards to the kitchen room floor flashed in her mind. She winced.

He reached with one hand to cup the back of her head, searching her face as he bent to touch his forehead to hers. “You alright?” he asked low.

She blinked. “Of course I am, sweetie.”

Did he think she wasn’t?

The corners of his mouth quirked down; his eyes slid back to his father.

“Brennie, honey.” She stroked her hands comfortingly down his arms, squeezing gently to get his attention. “I am fine,” she promised.

He nodded, still clearly unconvinced.

She tried a reassuring smile. “Go say hello to your father and wash your hands, please.”

He prowled across the kitchen, stepping wide around his father without so much as a word.

Tom’s fingers tightened on his paper, jaw flexing. He said nothing.

Susan suppressed an eyeroll. _Jiminy Christmas, these two..._

She forced another sunny smile, ignoring the dip in her stomach as she sang, “Ok my little dumplings, dinner time!”

____________________________________________________________________________

“Who wants to say grace?” Susan asked when everyone was seated at their place.

“Not all at once, guys,” she snorted when there was silence around the table.

Magnus was going through a phase where he couldn’t stand to be the focus of attention; Padraic was usually willing to pitch in, but had been off in his own world all evening with a dreamy-eyed expression. Tom and Brendan, her contrarians, despised all forms of structure and routine, which left-

“I’ll do it,” Liam offered, glancing around the table to see if there were any other takers before he stacked his hands.

Padraic and Magnus bowed their heads without complaint. Tom made a show of sighing through his nose as he dragged himself forward in his chair and stacked his hands.

Susan gave Brendan a stern look where he sat stubbornly with his arms crossed over his chest.

He rolled his eyes and bowed his head.

_Two stubborn peas in a hard-headed pod._

She nodded encouragingly at Liam before she folded her hands and closed her eyes.

After grace, the kitchen was filled with the sound of silverware clinking against plates and water sloshing into glasses as they passed food around the table.

Susan cut a portion of lasagna for Tom, catching Brendan’s black look as she slid it off the spatula onto Tom’s plate. Turning to her youngest, she asked, “Have you finished your project on the solar system?”

Magnus reached for the salad tongs without so much as a side-glance.

“Maggy?”

Nothing.

“Magnus!” Tom barked. On his left, Liam flinched at the volume. “Your mother asked you a question.”

Susan held up her hand at Tom, _Easy_ , as she nudged her son.

Magnus pulled out an earbud; Susan could hear the rock music blasting from where she was sitting beside him.

“Magnus, honey,” Susan sighed. “You’re going to hurt your ears- what have I said about headphones at the table?”

Tom reached across her, palm up. “Give us.”

“I’ll turn it off!” Magnus pleaded.

Tom made a _give-it-here_ motion with his fingers, mouth pressed into a tight line. Magnus sulked, digging his phone out of his pocket and smacking it into Tom’s hand.

“Mag-nus. Hand it nicely,” Susan warned, an image of four-year-old Magnus flashing in her mind.

Tom pocketed it wordlessly.

“Have you finished your project, yet?” she tried again. She plucked two pieces of garlic bread from the basket Liam passed her and tucked them onto Tom’s plate.

He shook his head, telling her quietly, “One’s fine.”

She took one and put it on her own plate, ignoring Brendan’s bitter sneer as she glanced meaningfully at where _Model solar system_ was scribbled in tilted print under _Assignments._

Susan learned her lesson after pulling her last all-nighter on Brendan’s sixth grade science project. She spent her evening running like a headless chicken from the library to the hardware store to the hobby shop, Brendan whining in-tow, _Mu-um, I’m sorry! I forgot!_

 _Failing to plan is planning to fail!_ she sang now as her boys begrudgingly wrote their major assignments on the board each week. _The Homework Nazi_ , they called her behind her back. She took it as a compliment.

“I star’ed it, yeah,” he mumbled, eyes on his plate as he drowned his salad in dressing.

“It’s due Monday,” she reminded him, starting to get a little anxious. She wouldn’t put it past Magnus to procrastinate on his project in order to avoid presenting it to his class.

She stroked her hand down the back of his silky-soft hair and across his shoulder, pulling him into her side as she murmured quietly in his ear, “We’ll practice, like we talked about, ok? I promise.”

His eyes darted to hers as his lips quirked upward. He nodded.

To her left, Tom made to stand up.

She laid her hand over his. “Whatcha need, Daddy?”

“Beer.” He turned his palm-up and squeezed her fingers gently.

Smiling, she pushed up from the table. “You got it.”

“That’s IT!”

The pleasant tinkling of dishes and chattering around the table came to an abrupt stop as Brendan slammed his hand down on the table and stood, chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Brendan!” Susan gasped, mouth open in shock. His brothers looked furtively between him and Tom.

Tom sat back in his seat, hands clenched into fists on the table, and levelled Brendan a look.

Brendan glared right back, chest heaving and teeth clamped together tight.

She looked him up-and-down, still reeling from the sudden outburst. “What in the world is the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with me?” He jabbed his finger at her. “What is the matter with _you_ , Mum?”

_The matter with me?_

“Excuse me, young man?”

“‘ow can you let ‘im treat you like this?” Her son’s face creased with anguish, hands out low in front of him as he pleaded, “Don’t you see ‘ow wrong it is?”

“Wrong?” Tom’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he leaned forward, tapping the table for emphasis. “Puttin’ a roof over ‘er ‘ead and food on ‘er table - that’s treatin’ ‘er wrong?”

“You think-” Brendan swallowed, jabbing his finger at the floor. “You think because you _provide_ for ‘er that you own ‘er? That you can just- do whatevah yah like with ‘er-”

Padraic looked anxiously at Susan.

Liam turned in his seat to Brendan, hand out. “Bren, that’s enough.”

Brendan ignored him, leaning in to spit hatefully at his father, “She’s not your _slave_ -”

Tom reached out a hand, holding onto the tail end of his patience as he enunciated slowly and clearly, “I never said she was.”

The tone in his voice, the set in his shoulders…

She felt Magnus’s fingers creep into her hand. She squeezed his, fear pinching her throat as she tried, “Ok guys, if I could just jump in here a sec-”

Brendan came down hard on the table, dishes and cups rattling as he planted both hands and snarled, “You don’t ‘ave to say it, do yah? No-” He shook his head. “You’re not man enough tah do that. You just treat ‘er like one, makin’ ‘er run and fetch for yah like a dog, rapin’ ‘er when no one’s round to stop you-”

Susan screamed, clapping a hand over her mouth in horror, at the exact moment Tom shot out of his chair, kicking it back so hard it skidded across the kitchen and crashed into the cabinet beneath the sink.

“Enough!” he roared, fist slamming down into the table.

Liam stood too, eyes wide with shock. Padraic was pale as a sheet and gripping the table edge for dear life.

“You listen tah me, boy.” Tom’s face was red, eyes dark and mouth curled in a savage snarl. “I ‘ave never ‘urt that woman-” He jabbed a finger at Susan. “Not one Goddamn day a’my life-”

“You’re a bloody liar,” Brendan spat back, lunging for Tom. Liam sprung into action, catching him across the chest as Susan’s hand shot out to snag a handful of Tom’s shirt, pulling him back as he started around the table for Brendan.

“Stead-y!” Liam shouted as Susan shrieked, “Tom, stop!”

Brendan tried to shove him off, voice cracking and eyes wet as he screamed, “I saw you! I saw what you did to ‘er! She was tellin’ you tah stop-”

“Mum?” Magnus whimpered beside her, tightening his hand in hers as he shrank back into his chair.

“Mum, what’s ‘e sayin’?” Padraic asked, stricken. He was looking at Tom like he’d never seen him before.

Her hand twisted in Tom’s shirt; she felt like she was going to be sick. “Tom-”

Before Tom could open his mouth to say something, Liam let go of Brendan and seized his father by the collar, wrenching him out of Susan’s grasp and backing him up, growling, “You sick son of a bitch, I’ll kill you!”

“Liam!” Susan screamed, trying to work herself out of Magnus’s now two-handed grip.

Tom stopped Liam’s forward march with a foot out behind him, taking Liam by the collar and dragging him in until they were nearly nose-to-nose, snarling, “Try me, boy.”

Brendan, seeing his opportunity, charged Tom with a roar, but Samson beat him to it, crashing into Tom and Liam and taking them both to the kitchen floor. Brendan landed on top of the heap, fist raised in the air as he searched frantically for something of Tom’s to hit.

Padraic yelled blue murder as Magnus started to sob.

“Magnus, let go!” Susan tried to pry herself out of his panicked hold. “Honey, it’s ok, let go!”

She heard a sharp yelp, and Tom grunt, as Liam hollered, “Fuck!” and Brendan made a savage sound. They rolled in a scrimmage of jabbing fists and kicking feet, bumping into one of the table legs and nearly upending it as dishes and plates crashed and clattered to the floor.

“The house, the house!” Susan cried, finally wrenching herself free and scrambling around the table to break up the brawl.

“Samson! Leave it _now_!” she snapped, catching the hundred pound shepherd by the collar with two hands and hauling him out of the fracas. He turned, snapping his jaws and snarling, and then realized it was her. His ears flattened sheepishly.

“Out!” she bellowed, not waiting for him to obey before she made a grab for Brendan.

Liam was lying underneath Tom with his father in a chokehold, the two of them pressed chest-to-back. One of Tom’s large hands was clamped around Liam’s forearm, the other was fending off Brendan’s furious maylay of blows as he straddled Tom.

Susan snatched Brendan by the back of the mohawk, jerking him backwards mid-swing. The momentum carried him to his back, on top of Tom’s legs; he tried to scramble to his feet and caught his mother’s socked foot square in the diaphragm. He fell back, hands braced behind him, and gasped sharply as the wind was knocked out of him.

Tom landed an elbow to Liam’s ribs at the same time he snapped his head back into Liam’s chin. Liam reeled, releasing his chokehold and cupping his jaw as Tom rolled off of him.

Susan helped Tom climb to his feet, taking his face in her hands. She was shaking, vision blurring so badly with tears she could hardly make out his face. “Oh my God, Tom-”

“I’m alright,” he rasped, wheezing a little as he panted. His lip was split, one eye starting to swell and darken, and there was a rough cut underneath the other. His shirt was ripped; there were deep puncture marks on one of his forearms from Samson’s bite, and he was listing a little to one side, trying to surreptitiously hold his gut.

“Oh Tom.” She smoothed her hands over his chest and down his arms, face pinched in sorrow.

“Get away from ‘im!” Brendan growled, trying to work his feet under him. He had a black eye to match his father’s, and a nasty mark on his neck.

Liam’s lip was dripping blood as he pushed himself up onto his knees, groaning.

“Get up!” Susan barked. She stepped between them and Tom, clapping her hands together loudly and screeching, “Get up now!”

They scrambled to their feet.

“Sit your asses down at that table!” She pointed to the dinner table. It covered in watery salad dressing and half-eaten lasagna and surrounded by broken dishes.

“Now Goddamit!” she roared. They flinched, looking between each other and Tom and back to her. She bucked at them, raising her hand with a vicious sound.

They clambered quickly for their chairs.

She took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, tossing her curls back over her shoulder and plucking at some of the salad leaves on her blouse. Clearing her throat, she turned to Padraic and Magnus.

“Boys,” she started crisply, trying to control the shake in her voice. Magnus was crying with his head in his hands, Padraic sniffled, terrified.

_My poor baby boys._

She fought a shoulder-sag as she told them calmly, “Please go to your rooms and work on your homework. I will come and get you when it’s time.”

Magnus didn’t need to be told twice, leaping up from his chair and fleeing for the safety of the bedroom he shared with Padraic.

Padraic, on the other hand, sat glued to the spot.

“D-did Dad rape you?” he whispered, tears falling from his lashes and rolling down his cheeks.

Tom snorted, a soft, bitter sound, his head hung and his shoulders hunched as he leaned against the refrigerator.

Susan bit back a sob, tilting her head back and taking another deep breath. _You can do this, Susan. Eye of the tiger._

“No, baby.”

She came around the table; Padraic reached for her, pulling her to him as she enveloped him in a hug. His high-pitched sob squeezed her heart. She stroked her fingers through his soft hair as she murmured, “Your father would never, ever do that. He is a good, good man. He loves me and he loves this family. So, so much.”

She glowered at Brendan and Liam over his head. The two of them had the decency to look ashamed as she said, “Your brother walked in on your father and I today, and he misunderstood what he saw.” She tipped Padraic’s chip up, the way Tom had tipped hers earlier that day. “I’m ok, Paddy. No one is hurting me. I promise.”

She wiped the tears off his cheek. “Okey dokey, smokey?"

He nodded, sniffling loudly.

She patted his shoulder. “Go to your room please.” She looked meaningfully from Brendan to Liam. “I’m going to murder your brothers, and I don’t want any witnesses.”

Padraic let out a wet, startled laugh as Tom huffed a chuckle. The boys shifted nervously in their seats.

When Padraic had padded down the hallway, Susan turned to her two remaining sons.

She planted her hands on the table, careful to avoid the worst of the spills, and hissed, “How _dare_ you.”


	5. Chapter 5

Tom sucked his tongue. “Jaysus bloody-”

“Does it sting?” Susan asked, eyes big and glossy in the bathroom light as she looked up at her husband.

He nodded, face creased in a cringe. “A bit.”

Plucking up a dry cotton ball, she concentrated on dabbing up the peroxide bubbling out of his bite wound. She clucked her tongue softly, “Sammy got you good.”

“Yeah, well,” Tom reached up with his good hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Just doin’ what ‘e’s s’posed to.”

Susan glanced up at him, breast aching at the hurt etched in his face. “Tom.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. Her lashes were wet as she closed her eyes.

“I’ll get blood on yah,” he gruffed.

She hugged him tighter. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

That got a huffed laugh out of him as he wound his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair. She heard his deep inhale and rubbed his back comfortingly.

Trying to sound casual, he rumbled, “Turned on me quick, didn’t they?”

“Oh, honey.” She turned her head, nosing and kissing the crook of his neck as she stroked her hand over his head.

“Always expected it from Brendan,” he said roughly, pulling back a little to look at her. He gave her a wry smile. “Liam was a surprise, though. Thought ‘e liked me, mostly. We’ve ‘ad our rows, course we ‘ave, but I thought-”

Susan touched her fingers gently to his lips. “Liam loves you. They all love you-”

“Nah,” Tom shook his head, corners of his mouth quirking down. “D’you see the way Paddy looked at me-”

She took his face in her hands. “Tom, listen to me: he was in shock. They were all in shock. What Brendan said-” She ducked her head, licking the tremble off her lips before she cleared her throat and started again. “What Brendan said was- it was awful. It was worse than awful. There are no words to- They were shocked. We all were.”

She traced the lines in his face with her fingertips as she soothed, “You are a good father, Tom. You didn’t deserve that.”

Tom shook his head again, “Dunno, Suzy.” He sounded so tired.

“Well I do know,” she murmured stretching up on her tiptoes to kiss him softly. His arms tightened around her, squeezing gently. He tucked her head under his chin when they parted with a soft _smooch_.

“I just can’t believe he’d say something like that,” she sighed, sagging a little against him. “What is the _matter_ with him, Tom? Why is he so angry? What did we do?”

She felt his shrug. “‘e was born that way.”

“Tahm, nobody is _born_ angry-”

“Sure they are. I was.”

She remembered Brendan as a baby, just big enough to sit up on his own, beating his toys into his play rug. He’d hold them up to her, sobbing his little heart out when they broke.

“We have got to do something, before he hurts someone else-”

“‘old on, ‘old on.” He peeled her away from him a bit. “Let’s get one thing straight: I ain’t ‘urt.”

She _hmph_ ed, giving his chest a patronizing pat-pat. “Ok, killer.”

“I ain’t.”

“Whatever you say.”

She wormed out of his grip, ignoring the firm slide of his hand over her ass as she bent over to root around the under-sink cabinet. She dug out a roll of bandages and stood, puffing her bangs out of her eyes as she offered it to him. “You still up for a little good-cop-bad-cop?”

He thumbed his nose, smiling sharply. “Might be up for a bad li’le spy.”

“I meant with the _boys_.” She rolled her eyes.

He took the bandages and gestured towards the door, _After you._

“By the way.” She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “I’m the bad cop.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Liam was sitting back in his chair, looking down at his lap with his hands in his pockets. Brendan leaned against the refrigerator, scowling with his arms folded over his chest.

They both jumped a little when Susan barked from the hallway entrance, “ _Excuse me_ , did I say you could get up?” Before Brendan could reply, Susan snapped her fingers and pointed to his chair. “Sit down.”

_No more Misses Nice Mom._

She pulled out her chair, sweeping her long dark hair over one shoulder before she sat down. Adjusting her watch chain, she folded her hands in front of her. Tom sat to her left, at the head of the table.

“I have never been more disappointed in you two than I am tonight.” She pointed her finger between the two boys, eyes narrowed dangerously. “How dare you make an accusation like that against your father. How dare you attack him in this house - in _his_ house. Who do you think you are?”

“I saw it,” Brendan spat, risking a glare at Tom before looking back at the table.

Tom took a breath; Susan held up her hand with a soft glance, _I can do this._

_You’re a warrior, Susan._

“What you saw,” she said calmly, firmly, “was two consenting adults having sex.”

The boys shifted uncomfortably in their seats, avoiding her eyes.

“Now, I know you boys are… active-”

Brendan and Liam exchanged furtive glances.

Susan snorted, _Please_. “I was a CIA agent for over a decade, guys. I know every move you make, I know everything you do.”

At her sons’ wide-eyed expressions, she leaned in with an impressive imitation of Tom’s sharp-toothed grin. “Oh, that’s right boys. Momma’s hip to your game. And let me tell you something, that little pet-the-pickle you’re playing in the back of the Mercedes is noth-thing like what your father and I do together.”

Liam fidgeted in his seat. Brendan swallowed.

Tom was smirking; his dark eyes swept over her appreciatively as she spared him a small, sly smile.

“I have been married to this man-” She pointed to Tom, “for almost _nineteen_ years. We have done things together you two haven’t thought of in your wildest dreams. I could tell you stories that make the porn you’ve been sneaking on your laptops look like The Lion King.”

By now both boys were a deep shade of pink; Liam leg bounced anxiously as Brendan rubbed his hand over his chin, staring determinedly at the wall.

“Brendan, what you saw today on this table was your father and I making love-”

“Ah Jaysus,” Liam scrubbed his hands through his hair as Brendan covered his face with his and groaned, “Mum, please-”

“-and you did not understand what you saw because you do not have the emotional maturity or the sexual experience _to_ understand.”

She savored the look of humility on his face before she said quietly, “Look at me, Brendan. Do I look afraid of your father? Do I look afraid of anybody? Is that what you think of me, that I’m so weak and small-minded that I’d let a man abuse me in my own home, in front of my children? Do you think I’d set that kind of example for you and your brothers?”

Brendan’s throat worked as he looked at her. He gruffed, “No, ma’am.”

“The things I do for him, for this family, I do because I lo-” Her breath caught. Tom reached across the table, sliding his hand under hers and squeezing.

“I do because I love him. I love all of you. My life-”

She looked around her kitchen, at the blackboard covered with her children’s handwriting, at the pictures and handmade cards on the refrigerator, at her table full of plates and cups.

She told Brendan, “This, you, our family - it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And I-”

The months after Rick was killed, watching the the video feed from his camera lens at her desk at Langley and in the dark living room of her home in Arlington. His voice, wet and rasping, in her ear and in her nightmares, _Susan, don’t watch-_

Running from country-to-country, hiding out in filthy motels and abandoned warehouse as she hunted for revenge. All those cold nights, curled around herself with her Glock in her hand and her finger on the trigger, haunted by ghosts.

She clenched Tom’s hand tightly in hers, anchoring herself as she looked into his dark eyes. “I am so grateful. Your father… He saved my life.”

The corners of his mouth quirked upward, thumb rubbing over the back of her hand.

She smiled, looking at Liam. “The happiest day of his life was the day you were born.”

Liam ducked his head, swallowing.

“The doctor handed you to him and I couldn’t get you back to save my life. He held you and held you, just looking at you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, he was so in love.”

She wiped the tears off her cheeks, sniffing as she nodded to Brendan. “And you, my God - you were so collicky. You’d cry and cry and cry; you were miserable. I was so exhausted, forty-three with two small babies- Your father would stay up with you all night, giving you baths and rubbing your tummy. Endlessly patient- I don’t know how he did it.”

Memories of waking up to find Tom dozing in his chair, Brendan asleep on his chest, his little bottom cradled in Tom’s large hand.

“He’d go to work in the mornings so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, and then come home and do it all over again the next night.”

Brendan sat back in his chair, staring at his hands in his lap as she asked, “How could you say something so… horrible about him? How could you _hit_ your father? How could you scare your little brothers like that?”

He said nothing, throat working as Liam scrubbed his hands over his face.

She looked at them both. “Let me tell you something, and hear me when I say this: if either of you _ever_ put your hands on your father in anger again, I will throw you out of this house myself. Do you understand me?”

Liam muttered a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” Brendan nodded.

Susan gave Tom’s hand a squeeze.

He winked at her, _Well done_.

She blew out a long breath. “Now, apologize to your father and shake hands, please.”

It was something Susan taught the boys when they were small - apologize and shake hands. With their classmates, their father, each other. And with her. She could remember the feeling of their tiny hands in hers, their little mouths turned down in a petulant frown as they dutifully mumbled, _I’m sorry, Mummy._

Liam rose first, turning to Tom as Brendan pushed himself out of his seat. Tom stood, shoulders straight and broad, in his torn tee shirt and his forearm wrapped in bandaging.

“Dad-” Liam held out his hand; Susan could see the slight tremble in it as he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Tom took it, shaking it firmly as he clapped his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “S’alright, son.”

Liam pulled him in for an embrace, pressing his face into Tom’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around Tom’s back.

Tom grunted in surprise, then gathered Liam up in his arm, their hands still clasped between them. Cupping the back of Liam’s head, he pressed his mouth against his son’s ear and said something too softly for Susan to hear. Liam nodded, clutching tighter.

Tom thumped him heartily on the back as they released each other. Liam shuffled aside for Brendan.

Susan’s belly tickled anxiously as her second-oldest stepped up. Eyes cast down, he offered his hand to Tom with a thick, “Sorry, sir.”

Tom took it, watching his son with an unreadable expression as he gruffed, “I forgive yah.”

She tried to ignore the ping of disappointment when Brendan withdrew without a hug, slipping his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward as he slunk towards the hallway.

“Ah-he-hem.” Susan blinked at her children.

They exchanged nervous looks.

“I’m not finished.” She gestured to their chairs, adjusting the cuffs of her shirt as she waited for them to sit down. Tom pulled his chair out from the table and turned it around, sitting backwards in it with his arms folded on top of the backrest.

They knew instantly what that posture meant. Liam’s head tipped back as he groaned; Brendan sighed sharply through his nose, jaw clenched.

“So.” Susan stacked her hands and rested her chin on top of them. “Who would like to explain why Brendan wasn’t at practice today?”

Silence.

She glanced at Tom, who subtly inclined his head, _Ready._

“I think it goes without saying that you’re both on restriction. How long is up to you.” She nodded to Tom.

He started at, “Two weeks.”

“That’s… merciful,” Susan blinked, surprised.

He smirked, “I ‘ave my moments.”

“Alrighty, we’ll open the floor at two weeks.” She looked between her boys. “Any takers?”

Brendan clenched his hands on the table, Liam’s leg started to bounce.

She nodded, _Go,_ at Tom, who upped the ante. “Four weeks.”

“Jaysus,” Liam muttered miserably as Brendan nudged him with his knee and hissed, “Belt it.”

Liam came forward, propping his elbows on the table and dropping his head in his hands. Brendan crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hm, you wanna play hardball, huh?” She drummed her glossy pink fingernails on the tabletop, eyes narrowing at the two of them.

_Vee have vays of making you talk._

She looked at Tom, eyes darting to Liam, _Hit him where he lives._

Tom nodded once. “Six weeks, promenade’s off.”

“What!” Liam’s head shot up. “Come on!”

“Lee!” Brendan hissed.

“Fuck that!” Liam shot back. “S’my twelfth year!”

"Liam, language,” Susan warned, holding out her hand to Tom under the table for a low-five. He slapped it lightly.

“Rat,” Brendan growled as Liam reluctantly confessed, “Brendan’s been suspended-”

“What!” she gasped

“-for the season,” he finished, sinking lower in his chair to avoid his brother’s furious glare.

“Brendan, why?”

“You been fightin’?” Tom asked.

“Well?” Brendan sneered at his brother, who scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Ain’tchyou gonna finished what you star’ed?”

“Come on, Bren,” Liam pleaded quietly as Susan blustered. “S’my _twelfth year_ -”

Brendan made a disgusted, “Chht.”

Tom pointed to Brendan. “Don’t pin it on ‘im-”

“Oo, wouldn’t want to pin it on the _golden boy_ , oh no-”

“I’m not the golden boy!”

“You done the crime, Bren,” Tom’s voice lowered dangerously as he leaned in. “So spill.”

“It’s coz I been skippin’, alright,” he growled.

“Skipping practice?” Susan’s browed creased. Rugby was Brendan’s favorite thing.

She suddenly thought of the chubby little brunette who rang up their groceries at the supermarket. A pretty girl with big doe eyes and a soft giggle as Brendan hammed it up, showing off for her in the check-out line.

Ok, so rugby was his second favorite thing.

 _Wait…_ “Have you been ditching practice to meet girls?”

The corners of Tom’s mouth quirked down as he considered that, shrugging, _Plausible._

Brendan’s face scrunched in irritation. “No.”

“Then can I buy a vowel?” she huffed.

“Coach suspended ‘im coz ‘e’s been skippin’ classes,” Liam muttered, cringing a little at the furious waves rolling off his brother.

Tom shook his head, “Damnit, son” as Susan closed her eyes and sighed, “Oh Brendan.”

“How many have you skipped?” she asked, wincing.

“Two,” he told her, chin tilted defiantly although he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Two! Honey - you know the school policy! Three strikes and you’re out-”

Tom held out his hand. "'old on, 'old on - 'ow's this the first we're 'earin' of it?" He gestured between himself and Susan.

At her son's guilty shoulder-hunch, Susan said, "He's been forging your signature on the notices. Haven't you?"

He avoided her eyes.

Tom scrubbed a hand over his face, muttering, "For fuck's sake, Bren" as Susan told her son breathlessly, "You could get _expelled_ -"

His jaw clenched as he shrugged. “So?”

She blinked, mouth open in shock. “ _So_?! Brendan, how in the world are you going to get into college if you're expelled from high school?”

“I’m not goin’ to university.”

_Not going to college..._

Her gut clenched. She looked helplessly at Tom, _Do something._

“Why not?” Tom asked, looking calmer than Susan felt.

“I’m gonna join up,” he said smartly, straightening in his chair.

“Join up?” She looked at Tom. “What does he mean - what do you mean?”

“‘e means the army, Mum,” Liam told her quietly.

The army?!

_Oh-ho no. No no no-_

“You- this- no. If you think-” Her breath caught, she looked to Tom again with big, pleading eyes. “Say something to your son-”

Tom eyed Brendan consideringly, rubbing his fingers in the seam of his lips and over his chin.

“Alright,” he said finally.

“ _Tom,_ ” she ground out through gritted teeth, tapping his shin none-too-gently with her foot.

“What? Boy says ‘e wants to join-” Tom shrugged. “Let ‘im.”

Brendan inhaled sharply, his face the perfect picture of vindication.

Susan gaped at her husband. “Seriously? Are you freaking _kidding_ me right now, Tom?”

“No,” he told her slowly. “I’m not.”

_Unbelievable..._

“Ok,” Susan waved her hands. “Time out: you cannot quit school to join the army-”

“Why not! Dad says I can-”

She snorted derisively. “Puh-lease! You are not cut out for the army… Sweetie, I have to sit on you to get you to make your bed- You don’t even do your own laundry-”

“So?”

“This is crazy.” She dropped her face into her hands, shaking her head. “This is abso-flipping-lutely crazy.”

Her baby, in the army. Without a high school diploma.

She felt sick to her stomach.

Beside her, Tom was silent, watching Brendan with a calculating expression. Like he was trying to figure something out.

_Enough._

“Ok.” _Eye of the tiger._ She took a deep breath and looked Brendan square in the eye. “Here’s the deal, young man: as long as you live in this house, under my roof, you will go to school. If you want to join the army, great. Fine. But you won’t do it living here, and I won’t sign any consent forms until you have a diploma in your hot little hands. Do I make myself clear?”

“But Dad said-”

She held up a finger. “Your father’s opinion is irrelevant.”

Tom let out a loud guffaw at that.

She ignored him, tapping the table to bring Brendan’s attention back to her. “This is Momma’s house, and what Momma says goes.”

Brendan looked from her to Tom, wide-eyed. “Dad!”

Tom shrugged, still grinning like a lunatic. “You ‘eard your mum. S’er ‘ouse, and I like livin’ in it. So either you’re in school, or you’re out.”

She patted Tom’s knee under the table, _Good boy._

Brendan had it backwards, and his shocked expression said he realized it.

“I’m going to ask you one more time.” She enunciated slowly, clearly, “Do I make myself clear?”

Brendan’s face pinched in fury, his arms crossed as he spat, “Yes, fine. Crystal. Alright? Can I go now?”

“Oh of course you can, sweetie!” she sang. Waiting until he and his brother were half out of their chairs, she tacked on, “Just as soon as you and your brother clean up this mess.”

With that, she pushed herself up from the table, jerking her head at Tom, _Let’s go_ before she started for the hallway.

Tom stood with a nod, "Night, gents" and made to follow her.

“Broom’s in the laundry room!” she called back without looking over her shoulder.


	6. Chapter 6

“You are stronger than you know, braver than- No, that’s not right.” Susan paused, trying to remember the saying.

_It doesn’t matter._

She looked her reflection square in the eye. “You can do this, Susan. You’re a momma bear. Your cub needs you. You’re gonna march straight into that forest and... make that cub… be a man-bear…”

Ok, so the analogy needed some work.

“Talkin’ to yourself again, luv?”

She jumped, catching Tom lurking behind her in the mirror. “Seriously, Tahm! How many times have I told you _not_ to do that!”

“What?” he shrugged innocently, lips twitching to hide a grin as he buttoned his shirt cuffs.

“You know what,” she huffed, trying not to wince at the bruise under his eye.

She turned to tie his necktie. Noticing the garish pattern, she wrinkled her nose. “Really? That tie with this shirt?”

He leaned in until his face was right in hers, mocking, “So pick a different one.”

She pushed him away playfully, earning a sharp slap on the ass as she went into the closet to find another tie.

“There.” She held it up against his shirt, smiling to herself.

_Much better._

“You’re one tah talk,” he snorted, corner of his mouth quirking upward as he looked between them at her outfit.

Guilt kicked low in her gut; she glanced up with what she hoped was a casual shrug as she slipped the knot smoothly into place. “It’s Teacher Appreciation Day. I wanted to look… festive.”

“No, I like it,” he assured her, eyes twinkling in amusement as he fingered her ascot. “Makes you look all sweet - kinda wanna take you out and teach yah ‘ow tah smoke wacky backy and suck cock.”

She thumped her forehead against his chest and sighed. “Why did I marry you?”

“Coz yah like me,” he grinned.

“No I don’t.” She turned back to the mirror, smoothing a hand self-consciously over her dress - and her nerves. “I really don’t.”

She was wearing a cheerful white sundress printed with blue tea roses under a sunny yellow cardigan. Her ascot was powder blue, dotted with bright red cherries, and she’d pinned a brooch to her breast - a little ruler with _1# Teacher_ written across it in block letters. Her earrings were glossy enamel apples, and she wore her pumps that looked like Mary Janes.

It was over-the-top, even for her, but desperate times...

Tom reached around her to cup her breasts, rumbling low, “You’re a bad li’le school teacher, aren’t you?”

She gave him a look in the mirror, _I am not amused,_ even as some of the nervousness started to dissolve under his touch. “Very funny-”

“Who’s jokin’?” He squeezed her tits, watching their reflections as he pushed them up and together. He sucked his tongue. “Things I wanna do tah you-”

She tried not to picture them as she scoffed, “Uh, are you forgetting something? Remember - oh, I don’t know - yesterday?”

“Put reinforced locks on the doors, didn’t I?” His eyes caught hers in the mirror as he leaned down to whisper straight into her ear, “No one’s savin’ you this time, sweet’eart-”

“I mean it, Tom,” she breathed as her eyes fluttered closed, head tipping back against his chest. His hands were so big and firm. “I don’t like you.”

He snorted softly. “Sides, you owe me-”

Her eyes snapped open. “Hey, Mister - I was tired, ok?”

“Wasn’t the deal.” He caught her earlobe between his teeth and tugged.

She turned her head, reaching back with one hand to drag him down for a kiss as she squeezed his forearm with the other-

He jerked his arm out of her grip. “Ow- fuck…”

She sucked her tongue, flinching. “Oo, sorry! I’m so sorry! I forgot-”

“I’m fine.” He held up his hand, hiding a cringe as he turned away. He cradled his dog bite to his chest, muttering, “Mary bleedin’ Magdeline that ‘urts-”

“Here, let me see-”

“Quit your cluckin’, Susan - I’m fine,” he growled, holding his arm high out of her reach.

“For heaven’s sake, Tom,” she propped her hand on her hip. “Drop the macho act and let me look at it.”

“I don’t need-”

Her cell phone rang merrily on the nightstand.

She pointed her finger in his face. “Saved by the bell.”

He smirked, wincing a little as he lowered his arm and unbuttoned his shirt cuff.

“Put more antiseptic on that, please?” She clasped her hands like she was going to pray and shook them at him before she picked up her phone. It was her principal.

“I’m begging you,” she pleaded, waving at the bathroom door.

“Alright, alright - Mother Mary weeping at the cross-”

She watched him retreat into the bathroom, waiting for him to shut the door before she answered quietly, “Headmaster Gibbs! Thank you so much for returning my call. I know it’s really last minute, but we’ve had a… family emergency...”

____________________________________________________________________________

“Okey dokey, smokies, are we ready to go?” she sang as she came into the kitchen. All four of her boys looked at her with surprised expressions.

“Go where?” Padraic asked brightly, ever the optimist.

_Poor thing has no idea…_

“To school,” she said sweetly, fluffing her ascot. She made a shooing motion when Brendan paused in front of the sink, water overflowing the oatmeal bowl he was rinsing as he looked at Liam. “Shake a leg, guys. We’re gonna be late.”

“You’re taking us… to school?” Liam quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Yes,” she nodded, deciding that was the safest answer for now.

Padraic sighed. Obviously, he had hoped for something more exciting.

“Lee’s not drivin’?” Magnus piped up.

She shook her head, teasing, “Not even a little bit.”

It was something Magnus used to whine when he was a little boy and she’d told him, _No._

His small shoulders would slump forward, arms dangling at his sides as he pleaded, _Come on, Mum! Not even a little bit?_

Now his face brightened. “Can I ride in the front?”

“No,” Liam and Susan replied at the same time.

Magnus sat back in his chair with a dull _thud._ “Chht.”

Tom came in, shrugging on his suit jacket with a gruff, “Mornin’.”

There were mumbled, “Mornin’”s from Liam and Brendan; Magnus’s mutter was too low to hear. Only Padraic tossed his father a dimpled smile and a hearty, “Mornin’, Dad”.

Tom glanced at Susan, _Told you_ as he reached around her for the coffee pot.

Susan hummed consideringly. “Not bad, not bad.” She pointed at Padraic. “Paddy, I like your energy. The rest of you, I want you to imagine…” She looked around the kitchen, swishing her hand in the air with a theatrical flourish. “That you like living here, and you want to continue getting free food and shelter.”

She snapped her fingers. “That’s your motivation! Heh-hem-” She raised her hands like she was conducting the crescendo of a symphony. “Once more, my little anklebiters! With feeling!”

There were groans and eye rolls all around, and then a dutiful chorus of, “Mornin’, Father” in monotone. Except for Padraic, who bellowed it with a boyish grin.

“Mahvelous, my dahlings, simply mahvelous!” Susan clapped. “Now, veet veet! To zee car!”

She beamed at Tom as they shuffled past her.

He shook his head, smiling in spite of himself.

As the boys filed out the front door, she grasped Tom by the lapels and pulled him to her in a style reminiscent of Scarlett O’hara in _Gone With The Wind._ “Oh, Tom - tell me you’ll miss me!”

He stroked his fingers through her hair, corners of his mouth quirking down and head tilting side-to-side as he considered it. “I might.”

“This family,” she scoffed. “No passion.”

He snorted softly at that.

Her eyes wandered tenderly over his face. _So handsome._

“Kiss me, you fool,” she whispered dramatically, tugging desperately at his suit jacket.

“Will you hush?” he drawled as he dipped his head to oblige her. His tongue stroked firmly into her mouth, one hand tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck and the other pressing into the small of her back, pushing her up and into him.

“Mm-mmn…”

She felt a little dizzy as they pulled apart with a sensual _smooch._

He smirked, watching her over the rim of his coffee cup as she fumbled with her coat into the living room. Glancing out at the driveway through the kitchen curtains, he frowned.

“Suzy?” he called. “What’re they doin’ in your car?”

_Popsicle sticks._

She flinched, rushing to fish her keys out of her purse as she shouldered it. “Gotta go, sweetie!”

“That’s not what I asked-”

“Love you!” she called as she closed the front door behind her with a sharp _wham._

She blew her bangs out of her eyes as she locked it behind her. “Close one, Coop.”

___________________________________________________________________________

“Why are we parking?” Liam asked as she pulled into a space in the visitor’s lot of their high school. He glanced anxiously at his classmates out the passenger-side window.

“I have an appointment with Headmistress Fuller,” she answered breezily, peeking at Brendan in the corner of her rearview mirror as she touched up her lipstick.

He stared out the window, lip curling in a sneer.

Padraic was already climbing out of the car as she opened her door.

“I don’t get a kiss?” she called to her three boys over the roof of her BMW as they headed for the school steps.

Liam touched his fingers to his lips and waved them as he kept walking; Brendan smirked at her, hiking his backpack further up his shoulder with a shake of his head.

Padraic jogged back with a thousand-watt smile, catching her face in both his hands and kissing her on the mouth. “Muh-waa!”

“Aw, Paddy.” She thumbed the lipstick off his lips with a soft expression.

_Her sweet baby boy._

“Tell the truth.” Grinning, he slung his arm around her shoulders and gave her a sly look. “Am I your favorite?”

She huffed a laughed, patting his hand as they ambled across the parking lot together. “Absolutely.” With a lopsided smile up at him, she added, “Don’t tell your brothers.”

“Nah, it’d crush ‘em,” Padraic teased good-naturedly. “Specially Brennie.”

“You think so?” she asked, surprised. An image of Brendan with his forehead touched to hers, his dark eyes watching her face as he murmured, _Are you alright?_ flashed in her mind.

She felt a ping of guilt in her breast.

_What am I doing here?_

“Yeah,” Padraic nodded, glancing down at her. “Finks ‘e’s your favorite.”

“He won’t anymore,” she muttered miserably as they started up the school steps.

____________________________________________________________________________

“So I says to ‘er,” Brendan was bragging to his friend as they sauntered through the doorway of their first period class, “Look sweet’eart, you’re just not my type-”

“You never!” his friend gasped in awe.

“Course I did,” Brendan smirked. “And she said- Mum?”

Susan glanced up from her papers and flashed her son a cheery smile, “Oh, hi Brennie!”

Brendan blanched. His friend looked from him to Susan and back, his face pinching cutely in confusion.

Susan flapped her hand in a little wave. “Hello, Peter!”

“Misses Brant,” Peter nodded with a nervous glance around the classroom.

_Probably looking for Tom._

“ _Mum,_ ” Brendan hissed, weaving his way between rows of desks to the table in the back where Susan had set up shop. Stopping in front of her, he growled low, “What are you doin’ ‘ere?”

She capped her pen with a smart _click_ and folded her arms on the table. Meeting his eyes, she said calmly, “I’m making sure you go to class.”

He blinked, mouth open in shock. “You _what_?”

At the front of the classroom, Brendan’s teacher heaved a world-weary sigh.

“Mister Brant?” He waved his hand at Brendan’s seat. “Would you be so kind?”

Brendan whipped back to Susan, teeth clenched in fury. “Are you outta your fuckin’ mind-”

“No - but you’re out of yours if you think that’s how you talk to me,” she whispered dangerously. She nodded to his seat. “Go sit down.”

He scrubbed his hands over his head, looking around like this had to be some kind of a joke.

_Sorry, sweetie._

“Mister Brant,” his teacher huffed.

With one last glower at her, he stalked back to his desk, throwing down his backpack and dropping into his chair with a huff.

Susan let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Frankly, she’d been expecting worse - at least he hadn’t thrown anything or punched anyone.

 _Yet,_ she thought miserably, noticing the looks and whispers from his classmates. A few of the girls were giggling.

“Settle down,” the teacher droned without looking up from the notes on his desk. “You’ll notice we have a guest with us, today,” He made a vague gesture, as if indicating a new projector. “Misses Brant is sitting in.”

The murmurs and snickers grew louder. Brendan slumped down in his seat, the back of his neck bright red above his shirt collar.

“And we will all-” the teacher continued, raising his flat tone a little to be heard over the commotion, “be respectful and courteous. Now, open your textbooks to page one-hundred-and-thirty. Today we will be discussing Franz Ferdinand and the impact of his assassination on the political tensions-”

Tearing her eyes off Brendan, Susan reluctantly turned back to grading her papers - _What I Like To Eat For Breakfast_. The module her students were learning this quarter was _Things We Do Everyday_. The first paper simply said, _Hambirders,_ with a smiling purple hamburger drawn below it.

She sighed.

____________________________________________________________________________

“This is _your_ fault,” Liam whispered furiously, jabbing his finger in Brendan’s chest.

“My fault?” Brendan balked, struggling to keep his voice down as he growled, “Y _ou’re_ the fuckin’ rat-”

“Piss off, I’m not missin’ prom coz a’you-”

“Oh, God for-fuckin’-bid yah miss prom!”

“Jaysus, Bren, can you keep it down?” Liam hissed, making a shushing motion with his hands as he glanced over his shoulder at the restroom door.

They’d managed to ditch their mother in the courtyard at the start of lunch, but he’d bet what was left of his privileges she’d find them before the bell rang for fourth period.

“Sorry,” Brendan whispered. He ran his hands over his head, tugging at his mohawk. “She’s drivin’ me nuts-”

“‘ow’d yah think _I_ feel?” Laim patted his own chest with both hands. “She’s already called Sarah _Mandy_ and Mandy _Melissa_ \- Sarah was so cheesed off she went to talk to Mandy, and Mandy was already talkin’ to Melissa, so then Sarah and Melissa started talkin’-”

“‘ow you keep all them straight?” Brendan asked, sounding slightly impressed.

“I don’t let ‘em meet Mum,” Liam ground out with a pointed look. At his brother’s sheepish expression, he took a deep breath. “Look, just… go out there and tell ‘er you’ve learned your lesson and yah won’t skip.”

“Chht, s’not about that.” Brendan leaned back against the tiled wall and folded his arms.

Liam propped his hands on his hips, catching his patience by the tail end before he tried again. “O-kay, what’s it about, then?”

“Signin’ up,” Brendan said, _Duh._

_Not this again..._

“You ‘eard what she said. She’s not gonna let you.”

“Only need one signature.”

Liam snorted, quirking his eyebrow. “You think Dad’s gonna side with you? Over ‘er? Get real.”

Brendan examined the toes of his boots. “Tah get rid a’me?” He looked somewhere over Liam’s shoulder and shrugged. “Sure ‘e would.”

“Bren, come on.” Liam’s face softened. “‘e’s not like that-”

“Yes ‘e is.” Brendan couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his tone as he snorted, “Everyone’s always sayin’ we’re just alike. I know I’m like that - so’s ‘e, then.”

“Jaysus, look-” Liam ran his hand through his hair before he held it out to Brendan, _Enough._ “You can sort it out with ‘im later - right now, you, me, Paddy and Mum are a laughin’-stock. What are we gonna do about _that_?”

Brendan shrugged. “Ring Dad.”

Liam blinked. “Dad?”

“Yeah. Ring ‘im and tell ‘im she’s… dunno… in trouble or somefin’.”

“Mum? In trouble?” Liam cocked an eyebrow at him. “What could possibly happen to ‘er ‘ere?”

Brendan’s face scrunched in irritation. “Dunno - fink a’somethin’. She fell, or she’s lost ‘er keys-”

“You’re a shit liar-”

“Look, doesn’t matter what you tell ‘im. ‘e’ll get one look at ‘er ‘ere, the way everyone’s starin’ at ‘er and talkin’ behind ‘er back, and ‘e’ll take ‘er ‘ome.”

Liam’s shoulders hunched a little remembering the jokes and snickers at his mother in the hallway. “‘ow do you know ‘e will?”

“Coz I would,” Brendan said simply.

Liam sighed, shaking his head as he dug his mobile out of his pocket. “Speaker?”

Brendan nodded.

“S’not gonna work,” Liam breathed as it rang.

“Watch.”

The line picked up, and there was a gruff, “What, Lee?”

“Dad?”

“No, s’the Pope.”

The boys shared an eye roll. “Listen, Dad - Mum needs you.”

A pause. “For what?”

“She’s in trouble…” Liam looked to Brendan, who shrugged, mouthing, _I don’t know._ “She- she needs you to come ‘ere.”

“‘ere? You at the ‘ouse?”

“No,” Liam said slowly, glancing at Brendan. “We’re at school.”

“Your mum’s at school?”

“Yeah,” Liam’s brow furrowed as Brendan’s face pinched in confusion. “She’s been ‘ere since this morning, followin’ Bren around ‘is classes-”

“Ah, for fuck’ sake,” their father growled. “S’why she was wearin’ that bloody get-up -”

Brendan cycled his hands, _Hurry up._

“She- she needs you, Dad-”

“A padded room with a lock on the outside s’what she needs- ‘old on, ‘old on.” He could practically hear his father’s eyes narrow as he asked, “Why didn’t _she_ ring me?”

“Oh, you know Mum - didn’t want to bother you.”

“Your mum?” Tom snorted. “Silly chit loves botherin’ me. S’er favorite ‘obby.”

Brendan’s face suddenly lit up; he snapped his fingers to get Liam’s attention, and then fluttered his hands wildly.

 _What?_ Liam mouthed, shaking his head.

“Listen Lee, I’m busy. Tell your mum if she wants me, she can ring me ‘erself-”

Brendan flailed more emphatically, making an exaggerated nervous expression.

 _Ah._ Liam nodded as he understood. “Dad? She’s ‘avin’ a panic attack.”

Liam grinned at his father’s sharp, “What?”

Brendan pumped his fist in the air and breathed, “Score.”

“Yeah, s’a really bad one. Lots of… panic. You know, attackin’ ‘er and what-not.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say?” Tom barked.

Liam and Brendan both flinched. “I didn’t-”

“Get ‘er somewhere quiet and sit ‘er down,” Tom growled, sounding like he was on the move. “Listen, if she starts screamin’, don’t touch ‘er-”

“Got it,” Liam nodded. “Don’t touch ‘er.”

“Jaysus bloody Christ- fuckin’ worthless- poor girl’s gone mad by now-” They could hear the ding of Tom’s seat belt reminder as he slammed his door and revved the engine. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Tell ‘er I’m comin’.”

“Will do,” Liam promised.

Brendan slapped him heartily on the shoulder as he ended the call. “Told you!”

Liam flipped his mobile up in the air and caught it. “Piece a’cake.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Susan was nibbling on a cookie and highlighting her lesson plan when a long, broad shadow fell across her three-ring binder.

“Well,” she heard her husband growl. “Innit this a pret’y picture?”

_Oh snap._

She looked up, trying to see him through a halo of white light; she’d been reading her paperwork in the sun for too long. “Tom?”

“In the flesh.” He dropped onto the bench beside her, so close their thighs touched, with his back to the table. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What you doin’ ‘ere?”

She swallowed, taking her time blotting for crumbs around her mouth with her napkin before she answered lightly, “I told you this morning, I had a meeting with Headmistress Fuller to discuss Brendan’s truancies.”

He nodded, scrutinizing her face. “And what a meetin’ it must a’been-” He looked at his watch. “Fours hours - someone might think you two were solvin’ world ‘unger-”

“We’re both educators-” She arranged her napkin delicately beside her binder, avoiding his eyes. “We had a lot to talk about-”

“Yah wanna try me ‘ere, girl?” he rumbled dangerously, leaning in so close she could feel his breath on her face. “Because yah won’t like ‘ow it ends, I can promise yah.”

Her stomach dipped as she glanced furtively around the courtyard.

_The jig is up._

“Tahm,” she sighed, deciding pitiful was her best strategy. Her shoulders drooped as she whined, “I didn’t know what else to do, and I knew you’d say it was a bad idea-”

“Coz it is,” he growled furiously.

Ok, how about desperate?

“He’s already missed two days,” she pleaded. “And if he skips a third he’s out-”

“S’not about the boy. ‘e gets kicked out, who gives a shit?”

She exhaled sharply. “Tom! How can you-”

“S’about you an’ me.” She jumped a little as he took her firmly by the upper arm. “Yah know I don’t like bein’ lied to. You tell me you’re seein’ the ‘eadmistress - only be ten minutes, you said - and then you come ‘ere and get yourself all worked up-”

“I- I didn’t lie,” she floundered, guilt niggling at her belly as she twisted her highlighter and its cap around and around in her hands. His jaw clenched. “I just… didn’t mention a smaller… tinier… detail-”

“Susan,” he cut her off sharply, looking her in the eye.

She winced, bracing herself. “What, Tom?”

“You ‘ave an episode?”

_An episode?_

Her stomach lurched. Why would he ask her that?

“Wha- an epi- no.” She shook her head emphatically. “Uh-uh. Why?”

His eyes narrowed, sweeping over her appraisingly before he took her by the wrists. “You swear?” he asked in a gravelly tone.

The look on his face…

Her chest pinched.

“Yes, absolutely. I- It’s been years since- Everything’s fine, Tom. I’m fine. I promise, I’m fine.”

He blew out a long breath, the tension in his shoulders dropping out as he sagged back against the table and closed his eyes. “Oh thank Christ.”

“Hon-ney.” She ducked her head to catch his eyes again. “Why in the world would you think I’d had an episode?”

He scrubbed his hand over his face, then reached to cup the back of her head. Threading his fingers through her hair, he wound his other arm around her and kissed her deeply.

Her highlighter dropped out of her hands and rolled off her lap as she smoothed the sides of his face and jaw, down his collar and over his shoulders.

He touched his forehead to hers as they pulled apart. “Susan.”

“What, baby?” she whispered, touching the corner of his mouth tenderly with her fingertips. Brow creasing in concern, she traced the lines in his face. “Tell me.”

“The boy called, said you ‘ad a panic attack,” he gruffed, swallowing. He looked sick at the thought.

Her gut clenched as she gasped a breathless, “What?”

He nodded. “Said it was bad, and I needed to come-”

“Why- why would he say that?” Susan blinked, mouth open in shock. Her hands twisted in the fabric of his suit jacket.

“Thought I was ‘avin’ a ‘eart attack on the way over,” he tried to chuckle. It came out as a harsh, rasping sound as he pressed the heel of his hand into his chest and rubbed.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Have you taken your blood pressure medication?”

She noticed another unconscious rub at his chest as his face scrunched in irritation. “No - ‘aven’t ‘ad lunch, ‘ave I? My son calls and says, _Dad, Mum’s ‘avin’ a fit in my language arts class, can yah come?_ Ain’t too worried about eatin’ somethin’ so I can take my pill-”

“Ok,” she soothed, rubbing his chest. “It’s ok. I’ve got a granola bar right here, and we’ll go home and I’ll make you a sandwich. How bout that?” She smiled coyly. “I’ll even put bacon in it.”

“What about the boy?” he asked, his chest muscles relaxing under her touch.

“Oh we’ll kill him later,” she promised lightly, leaning in a little to peck his cheek.

He let out another rough laugh. “First Bren, now Lee. Next it’ll be Paddy sellin’ cigs under the stadium.”

Susan smiled wryly. “Not even if his life depended on- Wait. Lee?”

Tom nodded. “Yeah, Lee. Called and said you were up ‘ere makin’ a scene.”

 _Sweet, responsible Liam?_ She closed her eyes. “What is going on with these kids?”

“Dunno. I’m gonna thrash ‘em one-by-one til I find out,” he muttered darkly.

_Someone needs a sandwich._

She patted his shoulder. “Not the little ones, ok? I like them.”

“Ah, they all go tah seed in the end,” he grunted as he stood. He offered her his hand. “I blame you.”

“Me?” she scoffed as she took it. He pulled her easily to her feet.

“Yeah you.” He raised her hand still in his and draped her arm over his shoulder, taking her by the hips. “All that _alternative discipline_ shit yah did when they were li’le. Now look at ‘em - not a shred a’common sense or the fear of God between ‘em.”

She plucked a bit of lint off his lapel and arched her eyebrow. “And you’re proposing…”

“Round-the-clock beatin’s. Start in the wee hours of the mornin’ - keep ‘em on their toes.”

This from the man who got swindled out of half his breakfast every morning by their cow-eyed German shepherd.

“Puh-lease,” she snorted. “Besides…” She glanced up at him shyly through her lashes. “I have a better idea.”

“S’that right?” She was relieved to hear some of the swagger back in his voice as he asked, “What might that be, Misses Brant?”

“Humiliation,” she smiled, then stretched up onto the balls of her feet and kissed him.

____________________________________________________________________________

“You think he found ‘er?” Liam asked quietly, thumbs looped through the straps of his backpack as he and Brendan walked down the hall.

On either side of the corridor, students were huddled in cliques, looking over their shoulders at the two brothers and whispering.

“Dunno,” Brendan muttered back, glowering at a gaggle of tenth-year girls as they burst into a fit of catty giggles. “I ‘aven’t seen ‘er.”

“Why’s it gettin’ worse then?” Liam hissed as his friend Colin approached.

“You ‘ear, mate?” Colin crowed with a shit-eating grin.

“What?” Brendan shot back as Liam tensed.

“The Gov rogered your mum in the courtyard at lunch!”

“He what?” Brendan spat, blustering as Liam tipped his head back, moaning miserably, “I knew it - I knew it’d blow up in our face.”

“Becky’s sister’s boyfriend’s best mate sawr it - said she was moanin’ like a cat in ‘eat-”

Liam held out a hand, “Eas-y!” as Brendan stepped up with a snarl.

Colin held up his hands. “Look, mate - wasn’t just ‘im. ‘alf the school sawr it.” His grin widened. “Your old man’s a dog, mate. He’s what, sixty? ‘ow’s ‘e get it up?”

“That is none of your business, young man.”

The smile slipped off Colin’s face as Liam and Brendan turned around to meet their slightly rumpled mother and one self-satisfied Tom.

“Colin Anders,” Susan chided sternly, surreptitiously smoothing her ascot. “I am shocked at your language. What would your mother say?”

She took a moment to savor the mumbled, “Sorry, ma’am” from Colin, and the groans from both her sons before she waved off their friend.  

“I’ll be seeing you at the team pancake breakfast next Friday, I _hope_ with more gentlemanly conduct!” she called after him.

“You’re killin’ us, Mum,” Liam moaned as a fresh wave of murmurs and snickers swept the hall.  

Brendan refused to look at Tom as he hissed, “Seriously - in the courtyard? Jaysus, what’s wrong with you two?”

Susan adjusted her _#1 Teacher_ pin. “That? Please, I’ve kissed your father harder in church.”

“Who are you?” Liam breathed, wide-eyed, as Brendan jerked back in disgust. Tom cackled gleefully.

“Your worst nightmare, Mister Liar-liar-pants-on-fire.” At Liam’s blanch, she drew a circle in front of her with her finger. “Congratulations, boys - you’ve just lost _all_ your privileges. Tonight over dinner, we can talk about the slave labor you’ll do in the distant hopes of earning _some_ of them back. See you after practice.” She pointed straight at Brendan. "I better not catch you by the tennis courts, either."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and slipped her hand into the crook of Tom’s arm. “Come on, Daddy. Let’s get you something to eat.”

“You’re my kind a’girl, you know that?” he told her with an amused half-smile as he escorted her through the crowded corridor.

She beamed up at him. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I can wrap this puppy up in one more chapter.
> 
> Your comments and kudos are *always* appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments and kudos are *always* appreciated! If you like these slices of Susan/Tom family life, let me know!


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